


Come tomorrow, feel no pain

by Mixedia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Goodbye Stranger, post 8.17 - Goodbye Stranger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixedia/pseuds/Mixedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment the blade had made contact with her flesh, it had burned, the brightest most scorching pain she could never have imagined ripping through her body and setting every one of her nerve endings on fire. But as she became aware of the cold tarmac under her back, the heat had faded. Soon, it had become a warm glow, pulling her under. Blackness beckoned, tempting her to breathe out the last of her pain and life and allow herself to sink into the abyss of Death.</p><p>But then the strong, warm, callused hand of a man had gripped her tight and raised her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come tomorrow, feel no pain

**Author's Note:**

> On my Megstielshipper tumblr, Rashaka sent to my askbox:   
> megstiel prompt: AU season 9, Cas finds wounded, near-death demon Meg. She wakes up, is shocked to see him as a human. Role reversal of s7, or something along those lines. =D Be liberal with the prompt if you need to.

She had had no idea death could be like this. Her whole body was tingling she was so comfy. The thick cover over her was huge on her tiny frame, not allowing a single draft in to penetrate and ruin the warmth that cushioned her, as well as the soft mattress beneath. The pillow under her head was perfect, not too plump, not too thin, but keeping her head at just the right angle to allow herself to breathe in the best way possible. She didn't want this feeling to ever end, but she was aware of how clinical she was laid - on her back, legs straight, arms by her sides, head facing straight up. The bump of soft flesh that created her ass was feeling a little numb from lack of blood circulation so she gathered she'd been laid like this for a while and felt the need to turn onto her side to give it a break.

She began tensing the muscles needed to roll over, those in her waist and arm. Suddenly, the comfort was receding way faster than she ever thought possible. Burning, sharp bursts of pain erupted all over her body and in her abdomen, the epicentre of the whole quake of the catastrophe, burning blind hot and searing, making her want to rip the skin from her own meat-suit. Little fireworks were going off in her head, spreading their lightening forks of agony across her forehead to rest at the bridge of her nose and her temples, sitting like clamps on either side of her head. All she could do was whimper pathetically.

But then, a different sensation all together made itself known on her hand. A voice that sounded very far away spoke a short word and as frustrating as it was, she guessed the word belonged to the warm breeze she felt on her cheek. The sensation moved from her hand to her neck and slipped round the back of it. It slowly dawned on her that the sensation was a hand, big, strong and slightly callused, definitely male, it tilted her head forward a little and two small, smooth, round objects pressed gently to her lips. The warm breeze brushed her cheek again but this time, the voice was just close enough for her to hear.

"Open your mouth."

She complied, hating the rough edge of the voice grating at the inside of her skull but feeling comforted knowing that she knew who it belonged to. The small objects moved from her lip to her tongue and she held them there, some tiny part of her brain that was still functioning properly explaining to her that they were pills.

"Here, you need to swallow this."

Water poured into her mouth, lifting the pills off her tongue so she could no longer feel them, but she felt as they touched the back of her throat before being carried down her gullet as she swallowed. Agony blossomed right the way down and she opened her mouth when she tasted metal to let the blood drip out. A soft, fluffy towel was pressed to her chin and against her mouth as she hacked, blood shooting up and past her teeth.

"What the hell did you feed me? Holy Water?" She choked out around the mouthfuls of blood, waiting for her gullet to calm down and let her breathe again. The hand on her neck became insistent, pulling her up until a knee and thigh could be slotted behind her, holding her in a sitting position - it made the bleeding worse, but it made her stomach hurt less and she stopped coughing so much.

"Tylenol and normal still water." The voice informed her, sounding closer and louder as the agony in her head shrunk away a little. "I didn't know if painkillers would work on you, being a demon, but I figured it was worth a shot. It is your meat-suit that is damaged, I don't think your soul could become more damaged after you make the transition to demon. The water was to help you swallow them, but when the angel blade stabbed into you, it seems to have poisoned you and caused your soul to go into a kind of hibernation. This is your usual reaction to me giving you water to drink, but you've not spoken to me since I brought you here to heal you, not until now anyway."

She lent back against the leg, feeling the bend of the knee pressing into the top of her spine. Some part of her was telling her the other person was far too tense for normalcy as his hand snaked further along her shoulders so it was now his arm cradling the top of her back, pulling her close so she could feel the tension and anxiety coursing through his body. She felt a little pity for him, huffing a laugh, amazed at how her body was already feeling better enough to manage that without crippling her.

"I thought we went through this already," She wheezed, her voice already sounding a little stronger. "You're much cuter when you're shutting up."

She almost smiled when she felt a little of the tension relax, like the other was feeling relief at hearing her say something so typically in character for her. She felt a hand reach up and brush a lock of hair away from her face tenderly and his nose touch against her temple before he replied.

"I'm trying to give you something to focus on, something to act as a balm to your other senses. The angel blade acting as poison has not only slowed your healing down..." He paused for a moment, holding his breath and she wondered what it was he was trying to find the words to say to her, half frustrated that he didn't just spit it out already and half terrified of what the answer would be.

"Meg..." Came his rough, gravelly tones, laced with anger and backed with a power only an angel could produce, "... Your eyes are open."

It took a moment for his words to sink into her understanding. What sort of dumb statement was that? Of course she knew her eyes were open, she could feel the lids and her lashes brushing just under her eyebrow like they should but... Then it hit her, like a ton of bricks at 100mph. Her eyes were open, but the world was still black. Her eyes were open, but there was no light filtering through. Her eyes were open, but no information was being passed through them. Her eyes were open, but she was completely blind.

She sat for a moment, letting her mind wrap around the fact, then turned to her fight or flight instincts. Tilting her head back so her neck was curled around his arm, she opened her mouth as wide as it would go and mentally screamed the incantation needed to evacuate her stolen meat-suit. Doing it made her horribly sad, she'd liked this one a lot. The slight frame had been agile, looking good with both the original red-brown waves and the blonde mess Crowley had left it when he'd spent a year torturing her. The suit was skinny and accommodated her so well, fitting snugly and she'd got used to the feeling of it.

But something was wrong, the incantation hadn't worked. She wasn't being ripped from the painful cells of this broken figure and she wasn't rising off into the air to find another meat-suit. She was completely trapped. She was glad she was laid in bed, being held close because if she had been stood up, she would undoubtedly collapsed on her knees by now, screaming at how unfair the world was. She snapped her mouth shut, maybe a bit harder than needs be. She felt like she was shrinking in on herself, her shoulders hunching up, her legs curling towards her body, her hand grasping desperately at the fabric of his clothes.

"Why can't I evacuate?" She demanded to know, not bothering to turn her head just to see more of the same sightless blackness.

"It was Crowley," He replied, "During his time torturing you, he branded your rib-cage with sigils to stop you being able to escape."

"What am I supposed to do Clarence?" This time, she did tilt her head round to the side, her nose brushing fabric and smelling that angelic smell that made her think of crisp winter days, with a cloudless sky and frost on the ground. Air whooshed past her cheek as he let out a sigh, his hand catching hers unexpectedly and his fingers curling into the spaces between her own so they were laced together. He turned his head towards hers and let his nose rest on top of her head so his lips were against her temple, where he spoke next.

"You're going to let me take care of you." He told her matter-of-factually.

"Why are you so sweet on me Clarence?" She asked, feeling a little thrill of something pleasant rustle in her chest as she felt his lips pull up into a smile, felt another whoosh of air from his nose warming the top of her head and, although his body relaxed a little further so she could cuddle against him better, felt his arm tense to pull her in tighter, his hand squeeze hers in reassurance.

"I don't know." He told her, although they both knew the answer, it perked her spirit up a little to hear the old conversation they had had. "And I still don't know who 'Clarence' is."

* * * * *

He stayed with her for a good hour after she had fallen asleep so he could watch her breathing, listen to her murmurs and just let himself relax at knowing she was here, alive, sassy as ever, just typical Meg. It was only after he had exited the room that he allowed his true emotions to show, just in case she could feel the way his body changed when he reacted with the despair and worry he truly felt. He closed the door to her room and lent his forehead against the wood, his body sagging with the weight of his responsibility. He tried so hard to think of her as his old Meg, cocky, confident and awesome, rather than this vulnerable slip of a girl in the too-big bed in the room. He tried desperately to not think of her eyes - the beautiful brown colour of them vanished behind the white fog, a colour completely wrong for her. Her eyes should be a crystal clear chocolate brown or that bottomless black that showed her for what she really was. But he knew it would be a while before she got her regular colour and vision back and it made him hate Crowley even more.

After getting his breathing back under control, he thumped his fist against the door frame and walked to the downstairs of the abandoned house he had made their home. He collapsed into one of the wooden chairs he had arranged around the kitchen table and pulled out the phone Dean Winchester had bought for him all those years ago. The Winchester's numbers were both saved in the contacts, but that didn't really matter because he had them memorised anyway.

Placing the phone on the table in front of him, he pressed his hands into his tired eyes, dragging them down to try and rub some of the weariness away. This was something he could not get used to - being so tired all the time. He looked at the phone and let his mind drift aimlessly, but it always circled back to what he was supposed to do. In the end, he made up his mind. He needed help and there were only two people in the world he knew to turn to at times like this.

The phone rang four times, then a familiar voice came down the line, helping his shoulders ease a little of their tension.  
"Cas... Everything alright?" Dean Winchester spoke in his usual gruff tones.  
"I'm fine, if that's what you're asking." Castiel replied matter-of-factually. "But I need some help."  
"Ok, what kind?" Dean replied, sounding a lot more cautious.  
"Knowledge based. I've captured a demon..." Castiel hesitated, realising that revealing to Sam and Dean that Meg was not only alive, but that he was healing her was a risky move. They may have worked together the few days before Meg was stabbed, but he wasn't sure if that would create enough camaraderie between the two hunters and the demon to stop them trying to finish her off themselves. Dean's voice broke through his thought process.  
"You did... You caught a demon? Cas are you crazy? You know it's a bad idea to go hunting, especially with every angel in existence out after your ass." He snapped. "Besides which you're only a hunter in training. Remember?"  
"I believe they're after my life, not my ass, Dean." Castiel interjected, voicing his confusion before Dean got into full lecture mode at him, completely ignoring how Dean had told him he 'sucked' at being a hunter in training.  
"You know what I mean Cas." Dean barked back and Castiel heard Sam in the background, asking Dean what was going on. But Dean was on a roll now and nothing was going to derail him. "The few times we've been hunting with you, you've been terrible at it and you ain't exactly up to scratch right now. You've seen us work, you know hunting is too dangerous on your own so what are you thinking? And you say you've caught a demon?"  
"Yes, it's captured and in my... devils trap. I drew a devils trap." He quickly corrected, realising he needed to be more careful. The idea of Dean knowing he had a demon in his bed was horrifying and he didn't even want to think about what sort of lecture he'd receive for that one.

"Good. Well you won't be able to smite it any more. Best way to gank it is with..."  
"Dean, I don't mean to kill the demon." He cut in quickly, completely disinterested in killing demons at this point in time. "I need to know how to heal... him." He said, changing the gender at the last moment. The less they could relate this demon to Meg, the better.  
"You wanna do what now?" Dean asked, his voice dead pan and Castiel could hear the imminent danger in the tone. Luckily, so must Sam because there were sounds of a scuffle and whispered swearing down the line before he spoke clear, Dean's angry voice disappearing in the background.  
"Hey, Cas, what did you just say?" Sam asked, the pitch of his voice rising in surprise at Dean's extreme reaction.  
"I told Dean I have a demon in a devil trap and that I need to heal him." Castiel replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could hear Sam breathing on the other end of the line for a few minutes.  
"I think I'm gonna need the full story here Cas. What's going on with you?" He asked in his typical Sam Winchester calm and it actually brought a smile to Castiel's face. Dean was the loyal but volatile friend, easy to anger and quick to violence if someone he cared about was in trouble but he loved his family and friends unconditionally and always had that optimism that there was another way. Sam, however, was the calm friend, the one who would listen to the full story before judging, coming up with calculated answers that would help you come to your own decisions rather than trying to force his own opinions into your mind.

Cas knew he had to make up a story and make it believable.  
"I was walking through a city and saw this demon stood talking on a phone." He began, lying through his teeth and hating himself for it. "He was talking about angels and demons, so I hid away to listen. I think he must be high in the ranks because he mentioned Naomi and Metatron but ended the conversation soon after. I need to know what he knows."  
"So where is the demon now?" Sam asked, his voice full of concern, but not the angry worry that Dean's had been earlier.  
"We were near a building site and I found an iron spade which I used to hit him over the head with. He went down, but did not lose consciousness, so I used an angel blade I have acquired to stab him."  
"Wait, you stabbed him with an angel blade and he's still alive?" Sam exclaimed, surprise causing the concern in his voice to spike even higher. "He really must be high on the demonic paycheck."  
"Those were my thoughts. I have him in a devils trap in an abandoned house I found. He has woken up a few times, but the angel blade must be acting like poison, he's never very coherent." Cas explained, his mind flickering back to the few times Meg had woken before she had spoken to him directly for the first time and curled his hand in the leg of the jeans he had stolen from a launderette.

"So what is it you're asking Cas, how to heal him or how to turn him human?" Sam asked, breaking his little flashback and pulling him back to the here and now.  
"Just heal for now." Cas replied, his mind whirling with possibility at the idea of being able to turn Meg human. It actually excited him and he hoped she would like the idea as well. Sam breathed a loud, short breath and cleared his throat quickly, shuffling as he made himself comfortable once again.  
"Alright, well we're not exactly demon doctors, Cas. This isn't something we normally do." He said, but Castiel could tell his thoughts were on where to get the information he was asking. "I would have thought it would be best to just treat him as a normal human and focus on sorting out the body he's inside. I guess I can have a look round the Men of Letters bunker, see what I can come up with if it's what you really want to do and give you a call back if I can find anything?"  
"Sam I... Yes, that would be very helpful..." Castiel paused, wondering what the social etiquette for this situation would be, but after a moment's thought he decided he really didn't care. "Sam, thank you for agreeing to help me. I am eternally grateful." The sound of Sam clearing his throat once again around the huff of a laugh drifted down the line.  
"Welcome, Cas. Just stay safe, alright?"  
"I will." He promised, before hanging up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> I would very much appreciate if you told me whether you think I should continue writing this or not, either here or on my tumblr at megstielshipper.tumblr.com. Anon is always open.


End file.
